Always obedient, Miho stands, leaving the robe where it falls, and pads over. Almost-but-not-quite dry, her hair clings slightly to her back and shoulders, it's tips crimson-stained. More streaks stain her neck and chest, and her lower lip bears a smudge of blood.

She pauses, at the edge of the bed, and leans forward to capture Mary Anne's face with her hands, kiss her gently, at first, then sharp teeth nipping at her lips, slow to break skin.

It really has been far, far too long.